Tyche
by LiteraryAnarchy
Summary: Reno had a habit of stumbling his way through life. It's odd how chance did that to you. OneShot. Maybe.


Tyche

LiteraryAnarchy

Disclaimer: Don't we all wish we owned Final Fantasy VII? Sadly, neither you nor I do, so thus I write, morosely dreaming I do.

Rating: M for mature themes, male sex, prostitution, drugs, mild violence, and language.

This fic takes place some time after Advent Children, but in all honestly is really stand alone. It's a one shot for now. It might become multi-chaptered if the mood strikes me. For now, however, enjoy and leave a review if you're pleased. Or even if you're not. Criticism is never scorned.

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Reno sighed into the wind as he took another deep drag from his cigarette. He let the smoke out in gentle streams from his nose, thoroughly enjoying the feel of the tar and the other vile chemicals rampant in the little sinful cylinder of oblivion. He smiled appreciatively for no real reason before taking three deep swallows of the beer he'd just picked up at the cheap bar he'd wasted an obscene amount of Gil at. He swayed slightly before bracing himself against a wall for support and looked up at the sky. He giggled.

"Will you look at that," he murmured to no one in particular, though the hobo on the street seemed to think otherwise as he responded with the shifting of his cruddy body and a queer look at bedraggled appearance of the red head.

"Looka what?

"Reno laughed again, this time more harshly as he turned to notice the bum. He was surprised, he'd admit to that. He hadn't thought anyone was around. But, damn! The poor fucker sounded drunker than him.

"Nothing really," he responded, looking to the sky again. "Just the stars. You never would have seen them two years ago, and I just barely noticed them now. Kinda sad."

The bum again sent a confused expression towards the red head and he could only quirk up the corner of a lip as he straightened himself up an looked the bum over. He was eyeing the half empty beer bottle longingly, his clothes looked the worse for the wear, and his face looked pretty hollow. Reno blinked his eyes tightly, trying to fight back a memory and failing miserably.

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He quaked like a flailing propaganda poster with half its paste off the wall as he tried desperately to huddle himself into as small a ball as possible in the empty alley. The frosty wind bit at his bare arms and he tried biting his chapped lips and making them bleed in hopes of diverting his mind's fascination with making him aware of the temperature. He knew what Midgar winters were like. He didn't need to get frost bite to remind him of that.

He took that back. You never really got frost bite in Midgar. You'd probably only manage that in the Northern Continent, but whatever. The point was, frost bite or not, sleeping in an alley in Midgar in the winter was sure to have you stiff as hell in the morning.

It was by his own stubbornness that he was out in the cold anyway, though. He could have easily gotten himself a free stay at the inn, but that would require getting a little too friendly with the manager, and in all honesty, even freezing as he was, Reno was so not feeling like giving head and getting it from behind tonight. The other option was, of course, to actually buy his way into the inn. What was the price? 100 Gil? But naturally he'd wasted the very generous amount of Gil he'd gotten from pick pocketing a teenager earlier, not much older than himself he was sure, on alcohol and cigarettes. Which reminded him, he should probably light one now, shouldn't he?

He flipped out a cigarette and his cheap lighter, lighting the cigarette with practiced ease before storing the lighter in his back pocket again and taking out the wallet he'd filched earlier in the process. He admired it quietly, a very pleased exhale of smoke as he fingered the leather appreciatively. It was obviously expensive. He flipped it open casually, not at all surprised to again find nothing inside. It had been mildly shocking to find a wallet brimming with Gil but no I.D. or cards of some sort. But, then again, the guy he'd stolen it from hadn't exactly been someone that actually went with the flow.

Reno could appreciate the way the guy took care of himself and carried himself as he walked down the streets like he owned them. He'd been wearing a worn pair of black slacks, and two shirts, a white long sleeve shirt under a tight grey one. It was obvious the guy was built and though his clothes weren't really all that special, the air around him just seemed to crackle. Apparently no one else seemed concerned with the guy and he just ambled down the street, but Reno couldn't stop himself from following him, raggedy as he was.

A breeze kicked up and Reno managed to time himself to rub into his side casually as the guy tried to pull back his platinum blonde hair, nearly white, from his pale eyes. He obviously didn't register the red head's subtle assault from the rest of the bustling crowd, but Reno had the disturbing sensation of eyes boring into his back as he quickly sped away as inconspicuously as possible. He cursed himself for looking back and catching the confused eyes sent his way.

Indeed, today had been a good day. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, frowning as he noted that it was already mostly done. He'd probably try and pawn the wallet tomorrow. It was sure to get him at least 500 Gil, and he knew it. He threw the cigarette on the ground a few feet away from him as he settled himself on the grimy concrete for the night. His eyes closed without a thought.

He might have been sleeping for a few minutes when he was abruptly shaken awake by a vice-like grip around his neck, lifting him a full two feet off the ground as another hand snaked itself into his back pocket. He choked out a garbled insult in indignation as he saw the thieving hand show itself, _his_ wallet in hand. He had just managed in sending a well aimed kick to a gentle area of the male anatomy when he heard a hiss. He barely had time to savor it, though, before the grip around his neck tightened and he slowly felt his consciousness ebb. He thought he might have caught sight of pale skin, longish, straight black hair, and a crisp black suit, but he couldn't be sure, as he felt the world fade away.

He hadn't awoken until what seemed like hours later from the sun blaring into his eyes. He hissed and groaned as he curled in on himself and stared unseeingly into the plush grey carpet beneath him. He slowly adjusted to the lighting as he again tried to take in his surrounding.

A low whistle left his lips without him meaning to as Reno took in the appearance of the very posh office, sharp desk and high-backed, black leather seat. And now that the sun wasn't gouging his eyes out, he had to admit, the view from the window that really was a wall, it was so big, was actually pretty nice. Well, better than nice. You could see all of Midgar, and, hell, from here, even the slums didn't look too bad. He was so caught up in the view, he never noticed the chair at the desk turn to reveal a very amused face.

"I suppose the view from here is rather inspiring," began a very metered and low voice. Reno turned abruptly at the sound. He grimaced at the feel of whiplash as it shot up and down his neck. "I can't say it does it for me anymore."

Upon opening his eyes again from when he had first closed them, Reno felt dread inch down his spine as he looked upon the calm and collected face of the very guy he had pick pocketed just the day before. He was wearing a sharp white suit, obviously dry-clean only from the obvious quality of the fabric that just screamed, "A yard of me costs more than your life. Don't get me started on the cuff links!"

Reno felt himself squirm under the very intrusive stare sent his way by the man before him and he felt himself flush from embarrassment. He must look so pathetic in his trashy green shirt, torn in places and riding up to show his stomach as he sat huddled on the floor. His black fatigues were faded and wasted at the knees, tearing quite badly. His sneakers had holes everywhere; the rubber soles' flapping layers like forlorn pieces of skin. He bowed his head in shame.

"So, do you make it a point of pick pocketing people on the street?" Reno barely managed to scowl through his flush at the sound of the utter amusement dripping from the voice above him. And the voice was above him, for the graceful bastard had floated his way right over Reno's head. Reno shook his head to negate the question.

"You just seemed like worth the effort," Reno mumbled. He was again mute in shock, surprised that he'd even managed that. The tailored leather ankle boots shifted in front of him carefully. He found himself fascinated with the reflection of a smirking mouth from above.

"Well, I can't say you don't have good taste."

The boots swiftly turned away, and Reno managed to raise his head quickly, a look of surprise gracelessly contorting his face into a fool. The man was again behind the desk in the leather seat as he cocked his head to the side lightly, leaning forward and placing his on a sculpted, pale hand. He smirked.

"Tseng says I'm just being impulsive," the voice continued to drawl. "I think he's just being overprotective. Regardless, I think you'll be useful in your own way. No one has ever pick pocketed me, after all. I usually catch people before the even bump me. But I didn't notice you until you turned back to look. That's enough to pique my interest. I assume you have no other employment currently?" Reno nodded his head negatively again, dumbly.

"Then welcome to the Turks," the voice replied almost cheerfully. "You now work for Rufus Shinra."

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Reno should his head roughly before dispelling the memory. He looked at the bottle of beer before him curiously until he lowered the bottle to the bum in front of him. He took it with a grateful bob of his head, and feeling generous suddenly, Reno took out some Gil in his pocket – he didn't really know how much – and gave it to the bum as well. He flipped his pony tail with a swish, waving casually without turning as he left sauntering again down the street.

"Later, old man."

He took his last drag from his cigarette before snubbing it on his heel and nearly falling over in the process. He regained his balance and continued on his way.

Reno took great pains to assure himself that his suit was at the proper level of disorder before stepping back into Healin Lodge, shirt untucked, top three buttons undone, tie hanging out his back pocket. He just barely managed to tousle his hair just right before opening the door with a click and stepping inside, not really caring that the door somewhat crashed closed behind him, probably intending it.

He easily took the pale eyes that shot up to scowl at him in stride. A graceful hand gripped a glass of whiskey indifferently.

"Need you always be so loud when coming back?" the voice drawled stiffly. Reno threw himself into the seat in front of the other loudly with a smirk.

"Aw…. You know you love it, sir," Reno crowed meeting pale eyes with rebellious green ones. He smirked as he caught the scent of the whiskey in the glass.

"Hey…." Reno began in a hurt tone. "That's _my_ whiskey…." He pouted sullenly.

"Oh, please," Rufus Shrinra retorted without much bite as he turned his head to the side taking a generous gulp. "I pay you, house you, and would feed you if you didn't live off of alcohol and cigarettes. The least you can do is share some liquor."

"By all means, sir."

They both smirked.


End file.
